


The Best Thing

by Natulcien_Telemnar



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Cuz he's beautiful, Elindir (or Elrondir if your prefer), Elves, Elves everywhere, Emotional!Elrond, Injured Lindir, LOTR, Last Alliance, Lindir needs some love too, M/M, Nice!Thranduil, too many damn elves, underappriciated Lindir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:34:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natulcien_Telemnar/pseuds/Natulcien_Telemnar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just an Idea I've had floating around my head due to the fact that we have a very beautiful elf whom we know nothing about. So I've taken the liberty to give insight on the story of Lindir. Very Non-Canon. Also contains Slash. </p><p>Lindir has experianced a life filled with sadness and despair. But after he is stabbed in the heart with a Morgul shard while protecting his Lord, who will heal Lindir's heart both emotionally and physically?</p><p>(My first fanfic... no hate ^_^)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Goodbye?

Summary: Basically this story just came from a random question that popped into my head: Who IS Lindir? Like where did he come from? So I created this to give my own view on who he is ^_^

Warning: This is a slash, with many fluffy moments that might make you explode into rainbows.

Possible Pairings : Elrond/Lindir (main), Erestor/Glorfindel, Elrond/Gil-Galad (maybe), and perhaps just a touch of Thranduil/Legolas.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lotr/Silmarillion/Anything to do with middle earth (other than the OCs I might drop in here and there. But I'm not a big fan of those.)

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Standing with tears in his despairing brown eyes, Lindir watched alongside Erestor as elves, clad in armor, wielding bows and swords, marched from their home in Imladris toward Modor, preparing for war with their enemies. Lindir anxiously inspected the dignified faces of each passing elf as he waited for his parents and friends to march past. Almost everyone he knew was leaving for Mordor that day; Glorfindel the brave and renowned warrior, Erenion Gil-Galad- high king of the Noldor, Lord Elrond master of Rivendell, and his parents who were both warriors and heralds to Cidan. He knew that there was a large chance he would never see them again. Of course, he had begged his parents not to leave. He had pleaded at the feet of Gil-Galad to not leave him. But his attempts were futile, for Lindir was fully aware that they had to go to war if they wanted to destroy the evil that plagued them.

The sun was hidden behind the clouds, and a soft rain enveloped the area, perfectly portraying the way everyone was feeling as they watched their loved ones march presumptuously to their deaths. Erestor placed his hand on Lindir's shoulder as he too searched the soldiers to find his best friend, Glorfindel. The two of them had been friends ever since he met Glorfindel during a council in Greenwood. Glorfindel was the exact opposite of Erestor. He was tall, proud, and highly trained in combat. Erestor on the other hand was slightly timid, and hated fighting of any sort, for he preferred being a scholar and assistant to those who needed his help. Tears mingled with rain at the fond memories, further dampening his face and spirit alike. Erestor felt the young boy trembling underneath his touch. Whether it was from the chill of the rain or from the solemness of the situation, Erestor was unsure. But he was certain that this boy was far too young to be experiencing such a sadness. For Lindir had been born amongst a time of turmoil and war. He was just over 50 years old, equivalent to a 14 or 15 year old human teenager, and already he has seen too much death.

Around them, elves sobbed loudly as they said goodbye to their sons and daughters for perhaps the last time. Lindir had already said goodbye to most of his friends and family, but saved his final salute for his dearest of friends. He continued watching the elves, and realized they were just as scared as he was. Oppression was heavy in the air, and the sounds of sadness surrounded and nearly suffocated Lindir's senses.

But finally, Lindir's head perked up at the sight of Erenion Gil-Galad marching proudly beside Lindir's parents, with Glofindel and Elrond close by. Gil-Galad had always been Lindir's best friend, for he looked up to the Elven-King with an awe and fascination like a moth drawn to a flame. Gil (as Lindir called him) had taught him how to wield a sword and how to shoot a bow. All his life, Lindir remembered Gil being by his side at any chance he got. Gil preferred Lindir as well, for he felt the child had unlimited potential. Not with wielding a sword, but instead with dealings of song and music. Yes, Lindir could hit a target with decent accuracy, but he preferred the stings of a harp as opposed to that of a bow. Gil knew how easily Lindir could express his feelings with nothing but a flute or violin. Lindir had wrote a good deal of songs and poetry with Gil, for it was a pastime they loved to partake in. But watching his precious King in full armor, with staff in his hand, made Lindir's heart convulse in fear. Fear of losing his best friend. Of course, Lindir loved his parents as well, but they were hardly around. They had always relied on Elrond and Gil-Galad to care for Lindir when he was an elfling.

Upon approaching where Lindir stood, Gil raised his hand to signal his soldiers to cease their advancement further out of Imladris. He stepped out of line and walked toward a very sad Lindir, and promptly scooped the boy up into his arms, while nearby, Glorfindel approached Erestor and pressed their foreheads together and interlaced their fingertips in what Erestor was convinced was a final goodbye.

"Lindir, I need you to be brave for me." Whispered Gil, clutching the teen in his broad arms. Lindir made a soft whimpery sound as he buried his hands in Gil's cloak, and his face in the long, dark hair of the king. With a gentleness unfitting for such a warrior, Erenion sang one of Lindir's favorite songs. This particular song was composed by Gil himself, and told the importance of a brave heart as well as a powerful sword. He continued the song, attempting to calm the hysterical boy. After Lindir's tears had eventually receded, Gil placed Lindir back on his feet and placed his gloved hands on Lindir's shoulders.

"I'll come back in a few years time. And when I do, I shall teach you how to play a guitar. Is that understood?" Gil-Galad smiled, trying his best to reassure the boy, who simply nodded, allowing his brown hair to cloak his face. Gil sighed softly, placing his fingers under Lindir's chin until their faces were level, before taking the metal circlet from his brow and placed it on Lindir's head, then placing an affectionate kiss to his wet, long brown hair. He smiled one last time before stepping back to allow Lindir's parents to say their own goodbyes. Of course Lindir loved his parents as well, but not as much as he did his king. In the meantime however, just a few feet away, Glorfindel was caught in Erestor's relentless embrace, as sobs shook the scholar's fragile body, and refused to let the golden-haired warrior from his grasp. He had his arms pinned around Glorfindel's back, and had his face buried in the warrior's chest. Glorfindel removed the helmet from his head, and gave up trying to pry Erestor off.

"Erestor, mellon nin, you need not to worry. I have faced many great battles, and have returned fully in tact each time. You fuss over me far to much." Glorfindel whispered against his best-friend's black hair. He felt the grip around his body tighten for a moment, before slacking just a little.

"I know." Erestor choked out, as he completely released the death grip he had on Glorfindel. "Promise me you'll return. I don't know what I'd do without you..." He looked up, staring directly into Glorfindel's eyes.

"I promise. I will never leave you." Smiled Glorfindel, as he bent down and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to Erestor's cheek. Their hands separated reluctantly, and Glofindel began to walk back into formation beside Gil-Galad. But he froze before making it to the line. Instead, he swiftly turned back around, and in one fluid movement, he roughly grabbed hold of Erestor's wrist, and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in their first kiss. He laced his fingers around Erestor's neck, giving better access to his mouth despite the fact that Glorfindel was almost 3-4 inches taller than the scholar. Their lips were gently touching, for they both wished the kiss to be as loving and soft as possible. All the secret love and passion they help for each other was released in this tiny kiss. As soon as they parted, a smile graced both of their faces.

"Good-bye for now, meleth nin." Smiled Glorfindel as he backed away and merged back into the line of war-ready Elves. Erestor was far too flustered to form any sort of comprehensible sentence, so he simply nodded and brought his fingers up to his lips, touching where Glorfindel had just been moments before. 'I love you' he mouthed silently.

As Lindir's parents also returned to the line, Elrond began to hesitantly approach Lindir, nodding softly. Lindir looked up at the lord with a slight frown, remembering all too well the hatred he once experienced for the elf. For 20 years ago, when Lindir was no more than 30, equivalent to a 7 year old human child, Elrond had caused the death of Lindir's older brother. At the time, Lindir was convinced Elrond had practically ruined his life.

-Flashback-

It had been a regular summer day in Imladris, and Lindir's older brother Dimaethor (meaning 'Silent Warrior') had prepared for his first scouting mission. He had just turned 100 years, and was deemed old enough to begin real training. Dimaethor had chosen Elrond to be his teacher, and it was the first time Dimaethor had been allowed outside Rivendell. So alongside Lord Elrond and a small group of others, Dimaethor rode out just past the borders of Imladris to sweep for orcs. Elrond had not been prepared for the horde of orcs that ambushed their small group, consisting of 7 mostly inexperienced elves. The orcs were merciless, quickly tearing through and killing off the elves with ease, leaving Elrond and Dimaethor by themselves. Elrond used his bow, taking out most of the orcs. But Dimaethor had been struck early on by an arrow, and fell just after the slaying of the last orc. Elrond held the dying boy in his arms, as the young elf sobbed in pain in fear. Dimaethor died in Elrond's arms, who looked around at the maimed elf and orc corpses that surrounded him. Guilt began to rip through his body, and for the first time in a couple hundred years, Elrond cried, lifting up the dead elf.

Upon arriving back at Rivendell with a dead Dimaethor, Elrond was greeted with the utterly horrified eyes of Lindir, whom had been eagerly awaiting the return of his brother. After Dimaethor was given to his parents, Lindir repeatedly beat on Elrond's chest, screaming and sobbing horribly. He felt betrayed by Elrond. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.

-End Flashback-

In the time leading up to his brother's death, Lindir had admired Elrond with a passion that far surpassed the adoration he felt for Gil-Galad. Elrond had been like a second father to him, and had been the elf who discovered Lindir's passion for music and poems.

But ever since that day, Lindir had only interacted with Elrond only when it was absolutely necessary, and made sure Elrond knew of his hatred by hissing "I hate you" whenever Elrond passed by.

But here he was, prepared to go to war, dressed in his armor with Hadafang tucked away in it's sheath at Elrond's hip. His hair was messily braided. It was obvious whenever Elrond had tried to braid his own hair (for he is utterly terrible at such tasks). Lindir looked down in shame when Elrond kneeled down and placed a beautifully decorated flute in his hands. He took the flute, and gently ran his fingers over the wooden patterns that were delicately carved into the flute. There were pictures of flowers, vines, and birds all beautifully intertwined together in an intricate design. At the very base of the flute, Lindir's name was written in gold with very gentle strokes.

Lindir recognized the handwriting as Elrond's, and interpreted the flute as a peace offering and an ask of his forgiveness before he head off on his way. But at the very thought of losing his Elrond, Lindir began to cry for the umpteenth time that day.

With Large eyes, he looked up at his Lord, who smiled sadly while looking into his eyes. He was then filled with guilt. It was at that moment when he understood how guilty Elrond had undeniably felt when he held Dimaethor as he died. And the fact that he had ignored him after they had been so close, made Lindir feel awe at the emotional strength held by the Lord.

Lindir clutched the flute to his chest and then jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Elrond's shoulders. Lindir pressed his face into the crook of Elrond's neck, breathing in the calming, rustic scent which he missed all too dearly.

"I'm so sorry." Whispered Lindir, almost inaudibly. He buried his fingertips in Elrond's poorly braided hair, and felt his Lord sink with relief into the embrace. "I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I never could."

Elrond then pulled back, then smiled softly. "I take it all is forgiven then?"

Lindir nodded quickly and softly added. "Of course, my Lord. But I will never forgive you if you don't come back."

Elrond smiled, and stood up again, regaining his posture. "I don't plan on dying today, nor any day soon, Lindir." Lindir nodded, a grin traced across his lips. Elrond kissed Lindir on the temple, and began to walk away. And with one final glance toward Lindir, Elrond took up his position between Glorfindel and Gil-Galad. Gil lifted his hand up in a waving manner, and also shared a farewell smile with Lindir. And with that, the line army of elves continued toward Mordor. Lindir stared at the flute in his hands and brought it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the wood, promising to master the instrument by the time Elrond returned. He then looked at the cloudy sky and prayed to the Valar to bring back his parents, Lord, and King back safely. They stood there for a few more hours, watching the last of the warriors file out of the valley. And finally with Erestor by his side, Lindir retreated back into the safety of Elrond's house.

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Aaaaand that's the end of Chapter one ^_^ Plz review and tell me what you think. Was it too weird? Too long? Too short? I will gratefully accept your opinions. Thank you very much for reading!

IMPORTANT: I'm also taking requests to what other pairings you guys would like to see. Give me anything. I'll write whatever the heck you guys want.


	2. Return of the Elves

Time for chapter two. ^_^ Yay! This chapter is simply the return of the soldiers of the last Alliance. Please enjoy!  
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7 Years had passed since the Last Alliance had departed from Rivendell. In that time, Lindir was put under the protective watch of Erestor. He taught Lindir the importance of literature, and the necessary role of being the assistant of a great Lord. Lindir also took it upon himself to learn how to play the flute given to him by Elrond. Within a few year's time, Lindir had mastered the instrument, much to the surprise and liking of Erestor. The songs he produced out of the instrument was filled with the longing to see his parents and friends again. 

Lindir also began to find fascination upon learning about the Valar. For every night, he would stand outside and pray upon the light of Earendil's star. He would pray for the safe return, or for their spirits to dwell happily in the halls of Mandos. He also sought out comfort in Elrond's bed, for he slept there every night. He would curl up against the pillow and breathe in the scent which had long since faded. 

He grew taller and wiser, turning into a very young, yet very mature adult. The whole time he took Gil-Galad into example, and wore his hair the same way the mighty king would. The days went by uneventful, with the only thing keeping Lindir busy was the music he would write. First he wrote a song about the triumphs of Gil-Galad. Once that song was established, he wrote about the great and powerful warrior Glofindel. Last, he wrote a song about the wise and darkly beautiful Lord Elrond. The years went by fast, but each waking moment left Lindir in anticipation. But one day, Lindir was composing a new piece of music for Erestor when said assistant ran into the room exasperated and panting. For in his hand he held a letter from Greenwood inviting them to welcome home all of the soldiers, for the war had ended in victory. Lindir couldn't help but grasp Erestor into a tight embrace and sing songs of victory. The two of them immediately packed and left the next day.

They stayed in Greenwood in the company of Legolas, the prince of the Greenwood. For the prince was very much like his father, in appearances and behavior alike. Although Lindir missed the warmth of Elrond's bed, he took comfort in sharing the same room as Legolas, who had grown very fond of the elf. Months went by, as they waited for the return of the warriors from Mordor. And throughout this whole time period, Lindir was plagued by nightmares. They were mostly repeated, showing the same horrendous scene for nights in a row. One nightmare in particular was morbid. It portrayed the slaying of Elrond and Gil-Galad from the hands of Sauron himself. The dream always began with the two rulers engaged in furious combat, never leaving the others side. Then each time, Sauron would thrust a spear through Elrond's chest, and grab hold of Gil's throat, burning away at the tender skin of his arms and legs until nothing was left but ashy remnants. Lindir would wake up screaming, and would be quieted by the prince, who took to heart the night terrors, for he was experiencing them himself. But Legolas was instead plagued by images about the death of his dear father.

 

But after four months after arriving in the Greenwood, while in the middle of teaching Legolas how to play the harp, a renowned and welcoming elven horn echoed all throughout the forest, shaking the palace of Thranduil. Legolas and Lindir froze in the blink of an eye, then darted outside, catching a very surprised Erestor on the way out. Standing underneath the trees of the forest, the light footsteps of elves could be heard. Clinging to Erestor the same way he did 7 years ago, Lindir watched trembling as the remnants of the elven army could be seen on the horizon. They approached slowly and solemnly, the whole time he squeezed Legolas's hand to keep himself from passing out.

The army proudly held up flags in victory as they began to march through the forest. The eyes of the soldier's were filled with relief, but also an unexpected sadness. Their faces were tired, but their shoulders were still held high. Yes, they had won. But at what cost? 

"Ada!" Yelped Legolas when he laid eyes on the towering form of his father, King Thranduil. He ran toward his Ada, and as if he were an elfling, he threw himself on the king, tackling him to the ground. The normally stoic king laughed hysterically while Legolas smothered him with fleeting kisses to his face and hair, and tightening his hands around the long, golden pool of Thranduil's hair.

"Legolas. Ion nin. I missed you." Whispered the King as he pulled Legolas into an embrace, although he was still pinned underneath the lesser body of his son. Legolas curled up into the contact, laying on the forest floor, as elves warmly watched the reunion of Ada and Ion.

"I missed you too Ada." Replied Legolas, helping his father back on his feet, and brushing the leaves from his previously pristine robes. 

Lindir watched the scene with a sad smile, which Legolas quickly registered. Dragging his Ada to where Lindir and Erestor stood, he introduced the king to his new friends. "Ada, this is Erestor, Elrond's accountant and dear friend, and Lindir, apprentice of Rivendell. I hope you don't mind, but I invited them to stay in Greenwood to wait for your return."

Thranduil shook his head, and smiled warmly at his guests. "Not at all. It's a pleasure to meet you both. May I ask who are you looking for?" Asked the King, seeing the hopeful look on their faces.

Lindir timidly stepped forward and bowed gratefully. "Yes, my King. I am looking for Erenion Gil-Galad and Lord Elrond, as well as my parents."

At those words, the Elven-King's gaze dropped and he viably tensed. Seeing the King's composure drop so rapidly, Lindir closed his eyes, knowing something happened. The realization hit him like an orc's sword to the gut. He felt tears begin to well in his eyes. Thoughts flooded his mind, and he felt his blood turn into lava, scorching his heart. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, Lindir bit his fist in fear of screaming. He didn't want to ask, for he didn't want to know the answer.

His throat constricted and finally he weakly croaked out "Which one fell? Or was it both?"

Thranduil looked at the young minstrel with sympathy in his tired and relieved eyed before reaching into his pocket and placing a small tattered cloth in Lindir's hands. He held up the fabric, and looked at the faded woven patterns. It was a light blue color, with the sign of the Noldor embroided in a pale gold. The design was clear and very familiar to Lindir. It was the flag of Gil-Galad. He felt his stomach drop, and his heart stopped as he fell to his knees and sobbed terribly. He cried into the flag, feeling his body shake in terror and pain. Guilt ate away at his soul when he realized he was also crying out of relief, because it was Gil and not Elrond who had fallen into shadow. Legolas kneeled next to the minstrel, and placed a hand on his trembling shoulder.

"I'm sorry Lindir." He whispered, knowing there wasn't much he could do to console his new friend. Lindir looked at him with red eyes, and nodded fondly. He then adverted his eyes to Thranduil's and almost inaudibly whispered "And Lord Elrond?" At that, a strange look enveloped Thranduil's face, and he smiled thinly, dropping his gaze until he met Erestor's face, seeing the distant and wandering eyes of the elf. They shared a long glance, but Erestor's dazed look betrayed the sadness he felt. Averting his eyes once more into Lindir's face, Thranduil nodded, motioning for him to get off the ground.

"Come with me. I will help you look for him." The King held out his hand, which Lindir gratefully took in his own to help the young minstrel from the ground. In his other hand, Thranduil clutched his son's shoulder, pressing one last kiss to his temple. The three of them went off to find Elrond.

Erestor however, had been completely forgotten, as he surveyed the elves in search of his Glorfindel. Most of the elves around him had dark, lustrous hair compared to Glordindel's glistening blonde hair. The thought of the elven warrior caused Erestor's heart to flutter as he remembered the kiss they shared in the forest that day.

He weaved in and out of the growing crowd, and after hours of fruitless search, Erestor collapssed against a large tree. He felt his fears worsen, and his heart constrict. The sun was beginning to retreat below the horizon, and a soft orange glow was cast upon the forest. Erestor sobbed until he found it nigh impossible to breathe, and a choking sound is all that escaped his lips. He pulled his knees close up to his chest, and buried his face in his hands. His purple robes fanned out around his sulking frame, and his hair glistened in the darkening sky. He shook his head, not yet willing to accept the fate of his best friend and not-so-secret love. 

A nearby elf noticed the sobbing of Erestor, and crouched down, placing a comforting hand upon his shoulder. Erestor flinched softly at the contact, but made no effort to move his head up to look. He whimpered instead, further hiding underneath the veil of his waist-long hair. 

Then the elf spoke. "Tell me. Who are you looking for? Perhaps I could ease your pain." Erestor shifted softly, curling himself up into an even tighter ball. But he didn't resist the other elf, and instead reached out to gently touch the hand that rested on his shoulder.

"He is named Glorfindel." Whimpered Erestor. He felt the elf flinch at the intimate gesture, but squeezed Erestor's hand in silent understanding. 

"Glorfindel of Rivendell you mean? Yes, I am aware of him. Come my dear Erestor. We shall find this Glorfindel of yours." The elf said, smiling gently, leaning closer to the elf tucked closely against the tree.

At the mention of his own name, Erestor's head snapped up, and made contact with the eyes that he was longing for. Those beautifuly familiar blue eyes. Glorfindel was crouched down in front of him, with a look of pure happiness reflected on his face. Erestor's eyes widened and yanked himself and Glorfindel up until they were standing up again. He breathed heavily, and looked into those same eyes. Then Erestor unexpectedly thrusted Glorfindel against the nearest tree, and peppered his lips with desperate and sweet kisses. He whimpered when Glorfindel threaded his fingers into his hair, and gently pulled back his head, exposing Erestor's neck. Glorfindel then gently pressed his lips onto the pale skin of Erestor's jaw, and smiled when a tiny squeak came out of the assistant. Erestor then grabbed hold of Glorfindel's chin, and kissed him roughly, smiling when Glorfindel made a sound of surprise. When they separated, the two elves simply stared one again into each others eyes. Glorfindel pulled Erestor into a gentle embrace. And so they stood like that, clasping each other. No words were necessary.

In the meantime, Legolas, Thranduil, and Lindir searched the crowd for a certain Elf Lord. It was almost sundown when they laid eyes on their destination. There was Lord Elrond, standing with Gil-Galad's spear clamped tightly in his hand. He looked tired, and was covered in blood and dirt. His skin, which usually was a deep tan, was instead pale and dry.

"Elrond!" Yelled Thranduil, and waved his hands, motioning for him to come over. Panicking, Lindir threw himself behind the ridiculously tell Elven-King, and watched hidden as Elrond approached, a small smile on his face. It was then that Lindir took in the disheveled appearance of his Lord. He had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing that appeared fatal. His hair was messy (he tried braiding it himself again), and his clothed were tattered. Blood ran down the side of his face, which had an expression of longing when he laid eyes upon the Elven-King clutching his son.

"Mellon nin." Said Elrond, placing his hand over his heart in greeting, offering a smile to Legolas, who nodded warmly. "What can I do for you?"

Thranduil leaned forward, hugging Elrond gently, as if he were afraid of further breaking him. Thranduil knew how close Elrond had been with Gil-Galad. And now he was gone, walking in the Halls of Mandos. Thranduil straightened his posture and spoke with a friendly smile.

"I have an elf here who says he wants to see you again." Thranduil smiled, and stepped out of the way, exposing Lindir, who froze upon making eye contact with his Lord. They stood like that for a moment, staring fondly into each others eyes. Elrond smiled, when he saw how tall and mature Lindir had become. So he stepped forward, and pulled the elf into a relieving hug. Elrond pressed his face into Lindir's hair, and Lindir buried his own face into Elrond's chest. Lindir shivered at the missed contact, and grinned when he felt Elrond sigh and tighten his grip on Lindir.

"Lindir. It's good to see you again You've grown much." Smiled Elrond. Without replying, Lindir reached out and took Gil-Galad's staff into his own hands. He traced the metal, eying the elvish inscriptions. Elrond's expression turned to one of sadness, upon realization that Lindir had somehow found out the fate of Gil-Galad. But one thing Elrond promised to himself was that Lindir would never find out exactly how the King met his demise. For he died fighting against Sauron, and was lifted by the throat and burst asunder into flames. But Lindir never asked.

"And my parents?" Whispered Lindir, not taking his eyes off of the staff. Elrond closed his eyes. Guilt overwhelmed him. How would Lindir be able to live normally without his king and without his parents? That was when Elrond decided that he would take Lindir to be his personal assistant. He would take care of the young minstrel and protect him from all harm.

"I'm sorry." Was all Elrond was able to say, as he replayed the moment in which he watched the slaying of both of them. They had died in each others arms. Maybe Lindir would be comforted by that. But upon the news of losing his parents Lindir didn't cry. He couldn't. All of his tears had already been shed. This startled Elrond, and he began to question how close Lindir was to snapping.

"I'm just glad you're okay." Whispered Lindir, almost inaudibly. He refused to look at Elrond, and instead looked toward Thranduil and Legolas, who smiled with a small trace of pity for the two elves.

"Come." Spoke Thranduil, as he held Legolas's hand in his own. "You need a rest. Both of you." Lindir grabbed hold of Elrond's arm, seeing that his Lord was truly exhausted and physically weak. 

Elrond nodded gratefully, and followed behind King and Prince, with Lindir clutching onto his side, a small smile on his lips. In the corner of his eye, Lindir watched the star of Earendil shining down upon his son. At that moment, Lindir closed his eyes and thanked the Valar.  
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Aaaaaand scene! Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen. Again, I am taking requests and accepting opinions! :3

Also, tell me what you guys think about me expanding on this whole Leggy/Thrandy relationship. (Yes, I'm weird. I know.)


	3. Star of Earendil

This chapter is just kind of a filler, and will be a little shorter than the others. But I hope you all enjoy anyways. \\(^.^)/

 

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1000 years after the destruction of Sauron, peace, unity, and prosperity filled Arda. The enemy was vanquished, and the one ring was most likely swept out to sea and out of the minds of most. The alliance between elves and men ended, and in it's wake a delicate partnership formed. The Greenwood grew in influence, and the Noldor remained without a King. Underneath the guidance of Elrond and the power of Vilya, Imladris flourished into a great haven in which elves and man alike came from across Middle Earth just to seek counsel with it's leader. Lindir had been given the title of head minstrel for Imladris and personal assistant to Elrond. Glorfindel and Erestor were engaged, for they scheduled their wedding to be held on Glorfindel's 1,500th birthday. Every morning, Anor rose and glistened, shining her rays on the Earth in a way that filled Arda with light, warmth, and no small degree of love. 

Even with the seeming perfection and calmness that overwhelmed them, Elrond found it hard to spend leisure time with Lindir. Either Lindir was studying with Erestor, or Elrond was simply too busy. The only time they normally spent in each others presence was on political matters and whenever Elrond required the help of his assistant, which was quite often. But Elrond was proud nonetheless. He had practically taken the young elf under his guidance and taught him much about lore and legend. Lindir impressed Elrond with his skills in music, for Lindir has a particular way of expressing his emotions. They were beautifully heartfelt for such a solemn and shy elf. But what bothered Elrond was how melancholy and sad many of his songs were. He knew Lindir was suffering, yet he never spoke a word about it. It caused Elrond to worry, which only further annoyed Lindir.

Lindir had long since passed his majority, for which Elrond threw a lavish party. His hair reached passed his chest, and remained a deep brown, the same color of his eyes. At all times, he wore Gil-Galad's circlet on his brow, showing it off with pride. He grew taller, but was still quite a bit shorter than Elrond, and most other elves in fact. He often wore a deep blue robe and red cape, which showed his level of authority in Rivendell. He had become at times just like Elrond, for he mastered the art of hiding pain and anguish. He also worried more about the welfare of others than his own well being.

But the emotions Lindir was experiencing were strange ones indeed. He found himself shy in his interactions with Elrond, and he often blushed whenever they made eye contact. The ever-observant Lord noticed these strange behaviors, but passed it off as nothing but admiration and astonishment.

Lindir knew he was falling for Elrond, and that terrified him. Why would Elrond ever want him? Besides, Elrond had been married to Celebrian before she sailed, and had three beautiful children, to which Lindir was assigned as caretaker. He loved all three children, but he held a special place in his heart for Arwen for the kindness and understanding she often bestowed upon him. Arwen was the only person Lindir ever expressed his feelings. She knew Elrond cared for the minstrel, but kept this part secret.

Lindir smiled as he watched the stars shining above as he stood outside on the balcony. The sky was dark, reminding Lindir of Elrond's hair. Smiling at this thought, Lindir was flooded with memories of Elrond during the last millennium. Some memories were happy and sweet, while others were evil and terrible.

-Flashback-

Lindir and Elrond had been awake for almost 3 days straight, something that was not all that uncommon for the two as they filled out and discussed trade documents that came in from the Grey Havens. They had gradually gotten used to the relentless fatigue, but Elrond still fussed every time he saw the younger elf yawn.

They were sitting on their usual bench outside continuing the papers when Lindir felt a light weight press against his shoulder. Slightly startled, he looked down and saw that his Lord had succumbed to sleep at last. His tousled hair covered most of his face, and was falling out of the bun he had put it in just a few hours prior. His face was soft, and his lips were lightly parted. For the first time in almost a whole century, Elrond looks peaceful. Maybe even happy perhaps. Lindir smiled fondly at his sleeping Lord. Lindir then took the cloak from his own back and gently draped it over both of their forms. Not wishing to disturb Elrond's much-needed and deserved slumber, Lindir stayed in this position, and took it upon himself to begin filling out the rest of the papers simply so Elrond wouldn't have to when he awoke. He was terribly uncomfortable, but with Elrond so close, Lindir felt something stir in his heart. It was a new feeling. New, but not unwelcome. 

After filling out the rest of the papers, Lindir stacked them neatly underneath the bench. The sun was disappearing, and dark tones shone in Elrond's hair. His beating was soft and steady, as was his heartbeat. He brushed Elrond's hair into a loose braid to keep it from falling into his face. When Lindir looked up, he saw Erestor and Glorfindel standing in front of him as they tightly held on to the others hand. They smiled knowingly at the heart warming scene of seeing Elrond finding warmth in Lindir's arms. Lindir blushed softly and ducked his head so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with the elves, for they were both experts at reading the expressions of others. They knew of Lindir's so-called 'crush', and constantly tried persuading Lindir to act upon his feelings. But at the sudden company of his masters, Lindir simply rose a finger to his lips, signaling the two to not wake the sleeping beauty. Erestor nodded softly, and Glorfindel winked with a barely-there smirk on his lips. The two walked away exchanging glances, glad that the Lord and Minstrel finally got some time together.

As he ran his fingers through Elrond's newly-braided hair, Lindir eventually fell asleep as well, resting his own head against Elrond's. 

When he awoke the next morning, the first thing he registered was that he was warm. And very comfortable. He felt arms wrapped around him, and flinched when he vaguely remembered the previous night. For he found himself curled up against Elrond's chest, laying down on the bench. He sat up, and looked at the sky. The position of the sun told him it was just past midday. Hearing a soft chuckle, he then turned his gaze to Elrond's face. The elf Lord was wide awake and smiling sweetly at Lindir. Immediately the minstrel blushed and bowed his head whispering words of apology, straightening his Lord's robes as well as his own.

"Good morning Lindir. Or should I say good afternoon?" Elrond smiled at the elf's sudden shyness. 

"Good afternoon my Lord. Did you sleep well?" Asked Lindir, still adverting his gaze from Elrond's glowing face.

"Aye, thank you. Also, I appreciate your help in finishing those papers." Elrond said as he placed an arm around Lindir's shoulder and pulled him closer in a small embrace, which lingered a moment too long.

"You do not need to thank me. I was simply doing my job. As assistant to Lord Elrond, I just found it appropriate to assist him when he needed help." Rambled Lindir, continuing to blush as Elrond rolled his eyes.

"Let's return to the house. Glorfindel and Erestor probably have no idea where we've been." Said Elrond, as he stood from the bench, stretching softly and motioning for Lindir to follow him, as an inevitable blush traced the Lord's cheeks.

-End Flashback-

Lindir sighed at the fondness of the memory as he absentmindedly fiddled around with his flute. Behind him, footsteps echoed quietly. Lindir turned his head softly and watched as Elrond wordlessly took his place beside him and stared into the night sky. Lindir did the same, and admired the handiwork of the Valar painted above them in seams of white and glistening light. Directly in front of the two elves, shining ever bright, was the star of Earendil. Their star. 

"You know the tale of Earendil, am I correct?" Asked Elrond as he followed his gaze onto the horizon. Lindir nodded, a proud smile on his face.

"Then tell me." Demanded Elrond without any harshness nor raised consonant evident in his tone. Lindir thought for a moment, as he remembered his late night studies with Erestor.

"Earendil the Mariner was the Eldar who took the three silmarils and sent them out of Arda in the form of a beautiful bright star." Summarized Lindir as he pointed to said star. 

Elrond smiled and nodded before speaking.

"He married Elwig, the beautiful and fair ancestors of Beren and Luthien. Elwig and Earendil produced two sons, whom eventually came under the care of the brothers Maglor and Mahaedros. They both grew up into strong warriors. But being half-elven, they were forced to pick between the life of the Edain and the Eldar. Tragically, one brother chose a mortal life and the other chose to live the immortal burden alongside the Eldar." Explained Elrond, as Lindir stared at the star with a new-found curiosity.

"And what were the twin's names?" Asked Lindir. At this inevitable question, Elrond smiled and turned toward his servant.

"The twin who chose the Edain was named Elros. But his brother, the Eldar, was given the name Elrond." Smiled the Lord, chuckling softly at the blatant look of both horror and amazement on Lindir's face.

"Elrond? As in you? By the Valar, you're the son of Earendil the Mariner?" Blurted out Lindir, looking at his Lord with fascination.

"Aye. He was my father." Replied Elrond, chuckling again.

"What happened to Elros?" Asked Lindir before he thought about speaking, and instantly regretted it,

"He died." Elrond said plainly, no malice or anger in his voice. And with that, Elrond placed an affectionate kiss on the top of Lindir's head before walking inside and leaving a very flustered minstrel staring at the sky.


End file.
